You're Such a Stoner, Sam
by bigbadwolfygirl
Summary: Sam and Dean enjoy a quiet night and a joint. Cas gets high for the first time.


Two days of driving non-stop starts to wear on the guys. It's 11:45pm and they're in the middle of nowhere when Dean suddenly pulls off to the side of the road.

"What's up?" Sam says, marking his page in the book he was reading and looking over at his brother.

"I'm tired of driving dude, let's just park it and crash," Dean replies, rubbing a hand down his face. "Plus, I've got a surprise for you."

"Umm, alright. Where should we park?"

"I'll find somewhere."

Somewhere ends up being the middle of a farmer's field.

"Dean, we can't park here. It's private property."

"It's May, Sammy. No one's got crops going yet. We can see the stars from here, man. Come on, don't be such a pussy," Dean adds, grinning as he opens his door and climbs out. He pops the trunk and pulls out their trusty green cooler, which he stocked with beers during their last gas pit stop. He grabs two, popping the caps off with the handle of his knife.

Sam settles onto the hood of the Impala gently, crossing his ankles and leaning back against the windshield. Dean climbs up next to him and hands him a beer. Clinking the necks of their bottles together, they both take a long swig, followed by longer sighs.

"Look what I got for ya, bro. Found it in that nest we were at last week. I was saving it for a chill night," Dean says, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a pill bottle. It's packed full with nuggets of marijuana. "Those vamps smoke some good shit too."

"Oh man!" Sam exclaims, grabbing the bottle from Dean and examining the contents. "Remember that time we crashed that house party in Wichita Falls? We got so baked, dude. That was awesome."

"Hell yeah it was." Dean grins, remembering the night they spent partying at some stranger's house, then running through backyards and hopping fences when the cops showed up.

"Did you get papers?" Sam asks, unscrewing the lid from the bottle and sniffing at the pot inside.

"Of course," Dean scoffs, handing Sam a packet of rolling papers. Sam reaches around behind him through the open window and pulls his book off the dashboard, setting it flat on the hood in front of him. Dean hops off the hood and walks around to the passenger side of the car. He opens the glove box and digs around for a minute, coming up with an old grinder. He hands it to Sam and then ambles over to the cooler for another beer, automatically grabbing one for Sam as well.

Sam breaks up two large nuggets and puts them in the grinder. Dean settles back on the hood as Sam grinds the pot. He sprinkles the herb into the paper and rolls it gently back and forth between his fingers to get the line even. Then, moving quicker than Dean can see, he deftly rolls the joint up tightly, licking the trailing edge to stick it closed.

"Sammy, that's a work of art. I could never roll like you can."

"One of my many talents, bro." Sam laughs as he pinches and rolls the end of the joint closed. He passes it to Dean and then scoops the remaining pot back into the little container, sealing it and setting it with the book and grinder in the space between them.

"Fat joint. Awesome." Dean says, holding the joint out to Sam and digging in his pocket for his zippo. "Light her up."

Sam takes the joint and the lighter from Dean and sticks the joint between his lips. Ducking his head and cupping his hand to block the slight breeze, he flicks the lighter to life, burning the tip of the paper. Puffing rapidly, Sam pulls the flame closer until it's burning the pot, and a bright red cherry forms. He sucks in a quick puff of the cool night air and then holds his breath as he passes the joint to Dean.

As Dean takes a long hit, Sam puffs out a row of smoke rings. He finished exhaling and takes the joint Dean offers. He watches as Dean lets the smoke trail slowly out of his mouth before inhaling it through his nose. Sam takes two hard hits, and then hands the joint back to Dean.

"This is good shit, Dean," Sam says through a cloud of smoke.

Dean laughs and then sucks down another lungful. He taps the ash off the end of the blunt before passing it over to Sam.

"Watch this." Sam takes a deep hit and then hands the joint to Dean. Holding up his finger, he hops down from the hood of the Impala and then bends over, his lips almost touching the metal. Cupping his hand against the hood, he lets the smoke fall from his mouth. Then in one quick motion, he pulls his hand up. This causes the smoke to swirl rapidly up towards his face, spiraling like a tornado, which Sam promptly sucks down.

"You are such a stoner," Dean tells him, rolling his eyes.

"Takes one to know one," Sam replies, hopping back onto the hood next to his brother. Dean sucks down another two hits and hands the joint over. Then he gives Sam the bird and brings his finger to his lips. Sam quirks an eyebrow, and Dean winks before puffing out a succession of smoke rings. The rings come out in two rows, one on either side of his finger. Sam throws his head back, laughing.

"Told you." Sam takes another long pull on the joint and then taps the ash off the end. Handing it to his brother, he says, "I miss hanging out like this. We used to do this all the time. Toking and drinking and shooting the shit."

"I miss it too, man."

Three weeks, eight demons, and two very pissed off spirits later, Sam and Dean are headed back to Kansas when they stop for the night. Finding a somewhat secluded dirt path off the road, Dean parks the Impala under the cover of the thick forest around them. Yawning, Sam slides up and over the seat, flopping down in back and kicking off his shoes. He props his feet up on the window ledge, as Dean does the same, leaning against his door.

"Hey, you wanna smoke?" Sam asks from the backseat.

"Sure," Dean replies, sitting up and reaching for the glove box. "I'll pack a bowl."

Sam sits up and leans against the door, pulling out his flashlight, which he shines over the seat to give Dean light. Dean pulls the pill bottle and grinder out of the glove box, along with a blue glass bowl. He grinds enough pot to fill the bowl, which he packs tightly in with his thumb. Then he leans back against his door and brings the bowl to his lips. He pauses and then gestures at the passenger window.

"Roll that up, we can hotbox," Dean says, and Sam leans over the front seat to roll up the window. Dean lights the bowl, taking two deep tokes before passing it to Sam. They smoke the bowl quickly and the car starts to fill with smoke. Sam lays his head back against the cool window while Dean packs another bowl.

"Ow, what the fuck? Cas?" Sam hollers as Cas pops into the car, landing on his legs.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I assumed you would be in the front seat," Cas replies, awkwardly standing hunched over so Sam can pull his legs out from underneath him. Sam swings his legs in front of him and dangles them over the front seat. Dean laughs as Cas begins to cough and wave his hand in front of his face. Both of the boys are too high to care, and they laugh even harder at the face Cas is making.

"What is all this smoke from? Is something on fire? What is so funny?" Cas asks, looking suspiciously from Dean to Sam and back again.

"It's pot Cas, we're high as kites!" Dean tells him, shaking his head and leaning against his door again. "Want some?"

Sam stifles a laugh as Dean lights the bowl. Cas tilts his head and fixes Dean with his usual confused stare. Dean hands Sam the bowl and lighter, then turns to face Cas.

"It's marijuana, Cas. It's an herb. You smoke it, and it makes you happy." Dean tries to explain getting stoned in words that Cas will understand.

"I can already feel the effects of the drug just from sitting in this car. Why don't you roll down the windows?" Cas inquires. His head is starting to feel slightly lighter from inhaling the smoke inside the car, and it's not an unpleasant feeling, he decides.

"It's called hotboxing. Smoking in an enclosed space maximizes the effect of the marijuana and the longevity of the high," Sam explains, exhaling another cloud of smoke.

"Only you would turn getting baked into a nerd-fest," Dean says, taking the bowl from Sam's fingers. He offers it to Cas. "Do you want to try it?"

Cas looks at the bowl, and back at Dean. "Okay." He takes the bowl from Dean and puts it to his lips like he observed Dean and Sam doing. Dean reaches over and holds the lighter above the bowl.

"Okay, put your finger over this hole. When I light the pot, suck it in for a second, then take your finger off that. Then inhale it all the way in and hold your breath, if you can. Okay?"

Cas nods, and Dean flicks the lighter. Cas sucks in a hit and holds his breath, raising his eyebrows at Dean. Dean wiggles his own eyebrows back, a shit-eating grin stretching across his face. He hits the bowl, then passes it to Sam.

"Okay dude, you can let it out," he tells Cas, who is still holding his breath. Cas puffs out the smoke, then tilts his head again.

"I like this. The taste is nice, and the feeling in my head is even better," Cas states, then giggles.

'Great, first beer, now pot. Man, you are such a lightweight." Sam gives Cas a light shove on the shoulder, causing Cas to sway back and forth as if he were dancing. "Cas, go sit up front, I want to stretch out."

Cas whooshes away, then reappears on the front seat. Dean jumps, and both Cas and Sam burst into laughter. Sam lays across the back seat, bending his knees up in order to fit. Dean and Cas lean against their respective doors, and the boys spend the next hour lazily passing the bowl around, joking around and enjoying each other's company.


End file.
